


My Dog Judges Everyone But I Got Five Minutes with You

by featherflairs, Sickdaysurfer



Series: Everything Life Tries to Make Up For [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Cute stucky is cute, Dog Park Romance, Dogs, M/M, Maintenance Man Steve, Meet-Cute, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers is Not Captain America, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, but no serum cause au, dog park au, so Beefy Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherflairs/pseuds/featherflairs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sickdaysurfer/pseuds/Sickdaysurfer
Summary: Brunch and the dog park were regular additions to Bucky's week, unfortunately that meant dog park politics and clueless owners were part of the deal. Sometimes he wondered if anyone even knew what an Australian Kelpie was, and why everyone thought his dogs were fucking shepherd mixes.At least the really hot garbage man knew what was up.





	My Dog Judges Everyone But I Got Five Minutes with You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sickdaysurfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sickdaysurfer/gifts).



> Birthday gift for the lovely dogmom Sickdaysurfer <3
> 
> As always, love to my beta Roomnumber156
> 
> Beautiful art commissioned by inflomora-art on tumblr!
> 
> Disclaimer: Intended to be life inspired fluff and enjoyement, all doggos are best doggos.*:･ﾟ✧

Sundays were Bucky’s favorite time of the week.

Not because it was the lord’s day, or anything, for fuck’s sake, but because it was Brunch and Dog Park Day: that meant no phone, no noisy employees, no yelling Natasha (bless her soul, but she had a set of pipes on her) and no endless texts from his sisters. Just him and the dogs.

After brunch at Clint’s diner with his two Australian kelpies, Mikey and Gypsy, sitting diligently by his feet awaiting any rogue pieces of hash and toast, he herded the dogs into the back of his Jeep and set off for the dog park down the road. As always, Clint sent Bucky off with his regular order of a carrot muffin and a coffee to go after finishing his brunch, his snack to get him through the hour-long venture to the dog park. 

The locals at this park all know each other in one way or another too, and most of them are nice people. But, there is always the crazy lady with the prissy chihuahua or the man who is on his phone and never notices his boxer harassing and humping any dog he comes near- it was probably just like every other park that had their own problematic patrons, but Bucky liked this park nonetheless, and so did the dogs.

The one ongoing struggle he had was how everyone seemed to believe his kelpies were German shepherds.

Even when they went on walks outside the park, or during the rare times when he brought Mikey and Gypsy to work, people mistook them for shepherds. It wasn’t an issue at first, but over the last year and a half it had become more and more common and shit, he was getting pretty damn annoyed.

They were Australian kelpies, for fuck’s sake, and did no one give a shit about any breeds aside from shepherds, retrievers, and goddamn shih-tzus?

This morning, the dog park was filled with a good batch of the regular dogs and none of the weird or rude owners were around. Bucky was standing by one of the picnic tables, his muffin and coffee forgotten behind him while he threw a tennis ball across the park for Mikey.

The black bullet-shape of a speeding dog pelted across the grass after the ball, successfully grabbing and picking it up before turning to face Bucky and then promptly laying down with it in his mouth from across the field. Bucky smiled fondly, leaning down and waving his arms at him, causing Mikey to stand and cautiously sneak back him, with his huge black bat ears angled down in trepidation of another ball-chasing event.

He did this every time- it was the cutest thing.

Every other minute, Bucky glanced around for Gypsy, but she was usually off playing with the other dogs. She usually came back every once in a while to see him before running off again. She was his confident girl, and while Mikey was friendly, he genuinely seemed to prefer the company of his tennis ball over the majority of the other dogs.

Bucky almost tipped backwards when Gypsy sped behind his legs, an Afghan hound bounding after her, managing to catch himself on the picnic table just in time. Bucky watched them for a second to make sure it was just play, smiling as she easily outran the hound. She turned around and skidded back to hide under the picnic table, ears high and head turned to look up at Bucky expectantly until he rubbed at her neck. Then her Afghan was back and she was bolting off once again, pets forgotten.

Mikey had approached the table and dropped the ball nearby in the meantime, Bucky kneeling down and smirking at the tennis ball sitting ten feet away.

“I can’t reach that, pal. Come on.” He waved his hands again, clapping lightly.

Mikey gingerly picked it back up, inching forward and just barely dropping it within Bucky’s reach. In a huff, he waddled forward, grabbing the tennis ball and standing back up to throw it.

In a split second, Mikey was standing alert and his ears were ready, body tense as the light of his life (that damn tennis ball) was hurled through the air across the park yet again.

Bucky rolled his shoulder, wincing at the aching pain from throwing the ball all morning. His pup easily chased it down though and then simply lay down in the field to chew on it once again. He wished he could throw Mikey’s ball further, but his old war injury would forever get in the way. 

“They’re so cute! What babies, how old are they?” someone behind him cooed. Bucky looked over his shoulder.

An older woman with dark hair and a neon pink leash in hand was grinning at Gypsy as she bolted back to Bucky, knocking the little pebbles the picnic tables sat on across his feet.

He glanced at Gypsy before smiling.

“About a year? Mikey over there is a year older.” He waved to the pup, who was happily gnawing at his ball down the field away from where all the action was happening.

The lady fawned again, waving her hands out for Gypsy to come sniff as a few other dogs wandered by to investigate the commotion.

“I’ve never seen such small shepherds before.. are they miniatures? Or a pincer mix?” she asked, eagerly assuming every other option than the actual answer.

His eye twitched a moment before he gave her the fakest grin he could muster.

“Australian Kelpies, actually. Not a bit of shepherd in them…” He tried to sound polite, but the lady was carrying on with petting Gypsy and the new dogs and clearly didn’t hear a word he said.

“What a cutie pie! Maybe I’ll get a shepherd for Maxine to play with, huh?” she cooed more to the dogs than to bucky himself, her hands brushing familiarly over a French bulldog’s back legs.

Oh yes, a full grown German shepherd and a tiny French bulldog. That would be a great mix.

Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes, laughing fakely before pulling out his phone as a means of looking busy. He didn’t usually look at his phone at the park, but shit if he didn’t feel like fake small talking with this random lady and her snotty little French bulldog.

Gypsy had chased after the Afghan and Mikey was trotting back with his ball by the time the lady had finally fucked off, and Bucky pocketed his phone and angrily sipped his now-cold coffee.

“What a fucking idiot, how can someone think a kelpie is a shepherd?” came a male voice from behind him.

Bucky whipped his head around at the sound of the voice, eyes widening when he noticed the National Parks Service guy emptying the garbage bins behind the picnic tables. It wouldn’t have been such an ordeal normally, but this service man looked more like one of those hot calendar firemen than someone emptying trash bags full of doggie poop at the local dog park.

“W-Sorry? What’d you say?” Bucky uttered in a strangled tone, trying to replay the part where this golden Adonis in a green parks uniform was sharing his exact views.

The man smirked before tying off the bag of garbage in his gloved hands, nodding towards the clueless lady from moments ago.

“Idiot thinks they’re shepherds, but clearly they’re Australian kelpies. And beautiful ones at that, aren’t ya?” He whispered towards Mikey, who had noticed Bucky’s attention on the man and was tentatively dropping the ball at the stranger’s feet, staring up at him expectantly. 

After grinning a blinding smile at Mikey, he grabbed the ball and threw it across the field, his uniform straining against the perfect baseball pitch that went a significant length further than anything Bucky could have ever thrown. The maintenance man looked back to Bucky, who had absolutely not been staring at his uniformed biceps, and gave him an arched brow. “How often you get people saying that kinda stuff?” 

The guy had the brightest blue eyes Bucky had ever seen and all he could think about was how his future husband was also a kelpie-lover who thought everyone else was stupid.

“Honestly, nearly twice a week. I’m starting to think the American education system is failing far worse than we thought,” he managed, looking away when Gypsy knocked into the backs of his legs and skidded to a stop at their feet, staring up at the maintenance man to see who Bucky was talking to. 

The man held her stare, slowly smiling even wider when he noticed her telltale gaze. 

“Damn, she’s a judgey one, isn’t she?” He knelt to take off his glove, his garbage bags long forgotten, holding out his hand for her. She unlocked from her evaluating position, wandering closer to him to see what he was about. 

Bucky was busy staring at the man’s fingers and wondering how they would feel wrapped around his own. 

“That’s actually how I picked her, a little thing with the hardest stare I’d ever seen. ‘Figured if she was gonna judge me every day then it would give me the motivation to get my act together,” he replied honestly, and the man looked up from where he was ruffling Gypsy’s scruff. 

“Did it work?” 

Bucky smiled, shrugging and looking over as Mikey trotted up. “I’m not stuck laying in bed every day, so yeah- guess so. This is Gypsy, by the way. Her brother’s Mikey; he loves his tennis ball more than food.”

As if on cue, Mikey bolted straight towards the maintenance man, loving his new friend who could throw his ball further than Bucky ever could. The guy smiled and threw the ball across the park just as easily as the first time he threw it, standing to looking at Bucky directly this time, not at his pups.

“So, what’s your name, then?” he asked.

Bucky felt himself smiling nervously, reaching up to smooth down the loose strands of hair that were escaping his bun. 

“Uh, Bucky. James, if you care about technicalities, but no one’s called me that since elementary school.”

“Bucky on a technicality, very nice, I like it. I’m Steve.” He reached out to offer his hand- the bare one with no work glove on it. When bucky shook his hand all he could think about was how strong and comforting the grip was. 

But all he did was smile nervously at the introduction, looking back to his dogs and clearing his throat. 

“Nice to meet you, uh- so how do you know so much about kelpies? I don't usually get to meet properly-educated folk around here.” 

Steve smiled, holding out his hands instinctively when Gypsy rounded back for more petting, her Afghan friend following more calmly this time, Bucky reaching down to pet the new dog politely. 

“I used to work on a ranch in Texas, we had a couple of kelpies as working dogs and I’ve fallen for them ever since. Some of the smartest and most affectionate dogs I’ve ever had the honor of being around,” he gushed, kneeling down to scratch at Gypsy’s back even further. 

She backed into his hands contentedly, head stretched up and giving Bucky a look that read nothing but approval of his choice in friends. 

Bucky shared the sentiment, his heart melting as Mikey returned with his ball and dropped it at Steve’s feet once again.

“Well, you’ve won my kelpies over, and you will be sorely missed, especially in the ball-throwing department. My bad arm will never be able to match your skill,” Bucky somehow managed to get out, trying not to directly indicate his interests but also cowardly not making an actual move. 

Steve looked up at the comment, taking the ball from Mikey’s mouth gently to stand, before holding the ball out to Bucky and holding his gaze the entire time. 

“Guess I’ll just have to come by the park more often when I’m not working- get my pitching arm back into shape.”

Bucky handled the damp, saliva-covered tennis ball while he built up his courage, then stepped back and tossed the ball to Mikey, who easily jumped and caught it straight out of the air.

“We’re usually around this time on Sundays, I grab brunch beforehand if you maybe wanna join me sometime?” he asked carefully. 

Steve quirked an eyebrow at him and slowly grinned wide. He looked like the fucking sun, Bucky wanted to make him smile like that every day if he could. 

“I’ll take next Sunday off, brunch and a dog park, huh? Never had that kind of first date.”

Bucky bit his lips, nervously reaching for Mikey’s ball again and giving a slight smile. 

“Would give you a good idea what you’re getting into. They go where I go, and since they already approve of you, it only makes sense you join us on our Sunday outings,” he rambled. 

Steve gently took the tennis ball from Mikey as he spoke and threw it easily another time. Bucky watched the subtle interaction and it made his heart hurt. 

“Brunch with the cutest guy here and a couple of kelpies, sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in a very long time,” Steve charmed, reaching back for the forgotten trash bags. “I have to finish up with these but then I’ll be right back so we can trade info, if that’s okay? You made it easy to forget I was here for my job.” 

Bucky smirked as he tried to resist the warmth growing on his cheeks. 

“Smooth as fucking leather, aren’t ya, pal?” 

“Take the compliment, punk. I’ll be giving you lots of ‘em.” He winked, hefting the trash bags as he walked to the gates near the parking lot, and Bucky smiled after him while failing to hide any and all ogling of his date’s uniform-clad backside. 

Bucky was nearly distracted enough to not notice Gypsy going after his abandoned muffin, but he jerked around and grabbed her small wiggly body off the picnic table before she managed to grab it. 

He let her down easily, watching as she ran off to the other dogs since Steve was no longer around to scratch and pet her, before glancing towards the parking lot again. Mikey pushed between his feet and lay down in the pebbles while Bucky watched Steve from a distance, reaching around for his phone in his back pocket and thinking that maybe having some human company to join them on their Sunday mornings wouldn’t be so bad after all. Especially someone who loved his kelpies as much as he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Mikey and Gypsy are real; and yes, they are some of the purest pups around!! A lot of the habits and anecdotes are all real life things I've witnessed and I've tried my best to capture them.  
> Gypsy to the left and Mikey to the right, sorry for the huge picture size!!  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Will be a collection of ficlets about Bucky, his dogs, and their newest addition: Steve


End file.
